Distance
by GrandLeviathan
Summary: Memories of her time with Richelieu always left Jean Bart irritated. And with power like hers, irritation was a dangerous thing. Thankfully, the Commander was there to soothe her... in a variety of ways. [Smut]


**Distance**

_Power._

_No matter how much she seemed to gain, her sister was always one step ahead of her. For every inch in ground she gained, Richelieu took the whole mile._

_Jean Bart stood before her sister Richelieu. The golden walls of the room seemed so much brighter than usual, blinding in their intensity and making it hard to stare at them. The very air seemed to have a hazy fog to it, leaving her unable to focus on anything but her sister._

_The pirate-named Battleship yelled something at Richelieu, but she couldn't understand the words that left her mouth, nor why they were arguing in the first place. All she knew of was the anger simmering in her voice, and that she had called Richelieu weak._

_Richelieu said something in reply, her voice muffled into an incoherent buzz – before her grandiose rigging manifested around her, a shining armour of white and gold that magically stood out against the blurry world around her._

_Even though her sister's guns were not trained on her, even though she knew her sister would not fire upon her so cruelly – Jean Bart couldn't help but sweat, the mere presence of such power threatening to bring her to her knees. It was a power beyond the physical, a power that transcended into the territory of the heavens._

_''God granted me this power, Jean. And I will only use it in His name, and not in the name of mortal men. You know this. Please, do not beg of me to fight. Beg to Him, and beg he will grant you my cannons. For until such a day, I will remain where I stand, even as our home crumbles around me.''_

_Jean Bart couldn't stand such an answer, her voice becoming clear to herself. ''So be it. I'll get stronger, and I'll go kick God's ass. How about that?''_

_Richelieu smiled softly, almost longingly. ''I await such a day, when we may stand on equal footing. Perhaps then, we-''_

_She never heard the rest, as the world bled away into a swirl of colours._

…

''Mn...?''

Jean Bart cracked open her eyes, the muted ringing of her alarm blaring in her ears. She blinked dazedly at the ceiling for a long minute, her dream – her _memory –_ repeating over and over in her mind.

_Beep! Beep! Beep! BEEP! BEE-_

Her fist came down with all the force of a hammer, crushing the plastic alarm clock into a crackling pile of shattered plastic and sparking wires. With a scowl Jean Bart sat up, swinging her legs over the edge of her bed and running her hand down her face – digging her nails into her jaw, the pain helping wash away the irritating dream.

''Damn you...!'' She hissed, dropping her hand. Blood dripped down her jawline but she paid it no mind. The pain helped take her mind off her sister, if only for a moment.

Her eyes wandered over to her alarm clock, still sparking quietly. _'Still not strong enough. Richelieu could've turned it to dust.'_

The thought only angered her further, scowling at her own weakness. No matter how many days she spent tirelessly training, enhancing her skill and strength, her sister always seemed to be one step ahead – always just out of reach. Even though Richelieu was no longer here, Jean Bart knew what true power felt like. True power could paralyse people with its mere presence, it could bring lesser beings to their knees, it could halt _entire navies_ with naught but a glare.

Her sister held the backing of God, and wielded his power. It felt so painfully foolish to try and fight such a thing – to a fight a _God. _She knew deep down that such a feat wasn't just idiotic, it was _laughable_. Yet she made a promise to her sister, that she would grow strong and kick his ass. And she would sooner die than break such a promise.

Distant murmurings made her glance towards her window, dimly recalling her alarm said it was eight o'clock. The firing range should be empty around now; she could let off some steam there.

With a goal in mind Jean Bart stood up, grabbing her outfit and heading for the showers.

...

Turns out the firing range wasn't empty.

Jean Bart scowled, her irritation nearly palpable as she stared at the backs of the Royal Navy ships using the firing range – King George V leading them, announcing each volley prior to it being fired. There was still room for others to use it, but Jean Bart didn't feel like standing next to any Royals right now. She would sooner turn her guns on them and blast them apart.

A memory flashed through her mind, of them launching an attack upon them just to prevent them from siding with the Ironblood.

''Tch!'' She grit her teeth, spinning on her heel.

Just as she was about to storm off, however, an irritatingly familiar face strolled around the edge of the dormitory building – and spotted her. Hood.

''Good afternoon, Jean Bart.'' The woman greeted pleasantly, but Jean knew the woman could sense her irritation. That or she was doing a poor job of hiding it. ''Does something trouble you?''

Jean Bart scoffed. ''None of your business.''

Hood was undeterred however. ''I see. Would you like to join us for a firing exercise? Warspite has expressed eagerness in testing her mettle against you.''

''Maybe next time.'' The Vichya Battleship grunted harshly, storming past her.

Before she could leave however Hood's hand snapped out, grabbing her by the arm.

''It would be wise to control your temper before you hurt someone with it, Jean Bart.'' Hood intoned carefully, tone neutral.

The Battleship growled lowly, lips curling into a snarl. ''Let go of me, _traitor._''

Hood's expression darkened. ''Those days are in the past now. It would be wise for you to let them go.''

Something about her words ticked Jean off. Who was she to claim what was wise? Who was she to dictate what was forgiven and what was forgotten?

Uncaring of the fact Hood was equal in power to her, Jean Bart leaned in until their noses touched, her expression bordering on murderous.

''Maybe _you're_ done with the past, _traitor_.'' Jean Bart hissed. ''But the past ain't done with _me_.''

She held Hood's stony gaze for a long second, sorely tempted to attack the Battlecruiser if only to let out her rage, but she pushed that desire down. Nothing good would come of it; even she knew that. Instead she leaned back, scowled at the woman, and stormed off.

Hood didn't stop her this time.

X-x-X

''Stupid...! Utter, foolish _idiots!_''

Even though her voice was naught but a whisper the harshness of her own voice made it seem so much louder. Jean Bart scowled deeply, storming up the hill and nearing the peak. Just thinking about the Royal Navy was getting her agitated – more than she already was, at least. Who were they to dictate what she should think, when they were the ones to assault her home? She was certain that if the tables had turned, they wouldn't be nearly so forgiving.

She shook her head furiously, forcibly dispelling her thoughts and memories. The top of the hill came into sight – a flat plateau of dirt and rock, a few oak trees lining the edge of the cliff. The Battleship approached the edge of the cliff and sat down, lips drawn into a thin line. Her eyes roamed over the gently-lapping waves beneath her, doing little to ease her fury.

''Damn you, Richelieu...'' Jean Bart breathed a strained sigh. ''And damn you God... for taking her away...''

Maybe Hood was right about one thing; she needed to calm down. It was pure luck that she hadn't run into anyone, especially not the overeager Destroyers and Submarines. The last thing she needed was Surcouf hugging her from behind and ending with a fist in her face. Nobody deserved her anger... nobody besides Richelieu.

And maybe Hood. Try as she might she still nursed a quiet grudge against the woman in particular. Something about her unfaltering grace made Jean want to smash her tea-cup, if only to see a different expression on her face.

Silence fell upon the cliff, her anger simmering beneath her skin but slowly fading. Her eyes drifted to the right, over to a large building that was once a church – but was now being retrofitted to host a banquet in a few days. Dimly she recalled the many grand balls held in her homeland, of the wide array of feasts and exotic dinners held under the view of the mosaic paintings, of the many conversations she held with Richelieu...

''...tch.'' Jean Bart clicked her tongue, tearing her gaze away. Even now, with her anger dimming, she couldn't take her mind off her sister.

''So this is where you were.''

The Battleship flinched in surprise, a curse slipping past her lips as she nearly slipped off the edge and into the ocean. Jean Bart shot a glare over her shoulder, her irritated gaze falling upon the Commander. It was a testament to how distracted she was that she hadn't noticed him coming.

''What are you doing here?'' She didn't mean to come off as hostile, but her mood and self-loathing didn't help.

He strolled closer, hands in his pockets and face calm. ''Hood sent me.''

Jean Bart snorted, her gaze returning to the ocean. ''Of course she did.''

''She's worried about you.''

''More like worried about what I might do.''

The Commander hummed. ''I don't think so. If she thought you were going to do something dangerous, she'd try and stop you, don't you think?''

In response the Battleship huffed, shrugging apathetically. Hood was strong; one of the strongest in the Royal Navy. There was a reason they called her the 'Glory of the Royal Navy', and it wasn't just her long service record. She had gone up against Bismarck herself and, while she still lost, she had gained Bismarck's eternal respect. A very difficult feat that only a handful could attest to.

If the two of them were to fight, she wasn't sure who'd come out on top. She had raw strength and firepower, but Hood was a lot quicker than she suggested. One of the benefits of being a Battlecruiser, she supposed.

''So... you gonna tell me what's put you in such a bad mood?''

Jean snorted. ''No, I ain't.''

''Not even if I say please?''

The Battleship shot a flat look over her shoulder. The Commander replied with a half-hearted smile.

With an irritated sigh Jean relented. ''Just pissed at my sister, is all.''

Genuine curiosity flickered across his face. ''Sister...?''

''Yeah, Richelieu. She...''

And so she told him. She ranted and raved, going at great length to describe her sister and all the good and bad about her, from her endless patience to her irritating inaction. Like in her dream she didn't think about the words spilling from her mouth, only the irritation and exasperation. She gestured and waved her arms, but never took her eyes off the sea as she relived memory after memory. Whatever came to mind, she said.

By the time she had finished her impromptu-rant her tongue ached from how much it had been flailing about, one hand coming up to nurse her jaw. It wasn't often she spoke so much in a single go. It... felt good. To actually speak her mind for once, and not curb her words to save the feelings of others.

''You must really love your sister, huh?''

Jean Bart's eyes widened, her grip reflexively tensing – a wince crossing her face as she unintentionally dug her nails into her jaw. Ignoring the crimson dripping down her fingertips she dropped her hand, rising to her feet and fixing the Commander with a dangerous glare.

''Like hell I do.'' The Battleship growled lowly, her gaze piercing in quality, yet the Commander didn't back down.

''You wouldn't want to see her so badly if you didn't.'' He retorted, and at the back of her mind she recalled she _had _said that somewhere amidst her ranting.

She scoffed, stepping over towards a nearby oak tree – wiping her blood off on its bark. ''I hate her, simple as that. I only want to see her so I can show her how much stronger I've gotten. That's all there is to it.''

A beat. ''Is that so?''

Her nails dug into the bark. ''_It is_.''

''Then if you hate her, why do you curse the Iris God for taking her away? Surely if you hated her, you'd be glad to see her gone.'' The Commander took a step closer. ''You don't hate her. You care about her, just as she cares about you. And you can't admit it.''

_Crack!_

Chips of bark and wood flew as the back of her fist collided with the tree, splintering it with the force. With a hollow groan the tree tipped over, the dirt and stone beneath it crumbling from the sudden weight shift – and with a low rumble it fell, crashing down into the ocean below with a loud splash, followed by a series of smaller splashes as rock and chunks of dirt fell after it.

Jean Bart glared at him, her voice barely a whisper. ''That's not true.''

The distance between them was barely a few feet, yet the Commander looked perfectly, aggravatingly calm. She knew _Battleships _who would quiver beneath her rage, who would shy away while trying to make themselves as small as possible – yet this _human _looked her down without even flinching. A small part of her was impressed. A larger part was irritated.

''I hate my sister with all my heart.'' Jean Bart hissed out. ''Because _what else am I supposed to feel?_ She isn't here! How am I suppose to love someone _who isn't here?!_''

Her voice remained a harsh whisper, but he heard her easily. ''You're right. She isn't here; but that doesn't mean she can't turn up in the future. Then you can show her how much you've improved; how much stronger you've gotten.''

Jean Bart couldn't help it. She _laughed_.

''How much stronger?'' Her brief smile fell, turning into a twisted mockery of a snarl. ''My sister has _ God's grace _on her side. I'm practically an ant in comparison.''

The Commander looked thoughtful, meeting her gaze intently. ''Doesn't that mean she's weaker than you, someone who doesn't have 'God's grace'?''

Irritation soared into prideful anger, and her fist flew – crossing the distance in a heartbeat-

-before stopping a single _inch_ from his nose.

Even though her fist didn't connect a miniature shockwave blew past him, knocking off his cap and making his expression tighten – but he didn't even take a step back, nor did he look at her fist. His eyes remained locked onto hers even as the wind whistled through his hair, the gust carrying his cap a few feet away. Even as the wind settled neither spoke for a long moment, unable to break the sudden stare-off for some strange reason.

''...that was stupid of you not to dodge.'' Jean Bart remarked slowly, dropping her hand.

The Commander shrugged, looking for all intents and purposes that he had just been taking a stroll, and not nearly a fist to the face. And with physical strength like hers, there would be no contest. He'd be _lucky _if he was knocked unconscious. The more likely scenario was that she'd punch straight through his skull. Her strength was simply too great for a mortal human to stand against.

And yet he did. Even though he wasn't hit, he didn't falter at the thought of being struck. She had to admire such ballsy confidence.

''You wouldn't hit me. You're not that type of person.'' He replied simply.

''And what kind of person am I?'' She asked sarcastically.

''The kind who cares deeply for her comrades.''

In an instant a rosy blush dusted Jean's cheeks, taken aback by the response. She look aside but his hand cupped her chin, tilting her back to face him. For a long few seconds neither spoke, the gentle whistle of the wind their only company as it weaved through their hair.

His fingers trailed along her jawline, thumb delicately wiping away the thin string of blood dripping down her jaw.

''...you better not kiss me like this is some romance movie, you ass...'' Jean Bart muttered dryly.

He chuckled. ''Is that your way of asking for one?''

''Shut up.''

The Commander merely smiled amusedly in response, releasing her chin and turning away slightly as he fished his pocket for a tissue. She couldn't help but feel slightly disappointed.

After wiping the blood from his fingers he kept his hand in his pocket – offering her his other hand.

''Come. One's a lonely number, after all.''

With a light blush lingering on her cheeks Jean Bart took his hand, letting him lead her all the way back to base.

X-x-X

Several days passed – and before the Commander realised it, the banquet had arrived.

The old church hall had been remodelled, leaving it much more open and with plenty of space for people to move and mingle; the stained glass windows having been replaced with regular glass ones. Smooth oak floors and white-painted walls, fancy long curtains and long tables full of food... it certainly painted a pleasant picture.

One Illustrious seemed to agree with. ''I'm liking what Hood did with the place. It feels... more alive, in a sense.''

''Mm.'' He hummed in agreement, gazing around the room. Dozens were gathered, celebrating and chatting amicably. Many had gone as far as picking out new outfits for the occasion alone, wearing elaborate party clothes to match the festivities.

Even Illustrious had followed the trend, picking a flowing white dress that just barely brushed against the ground as she walked. And as with all dresses she wore it displayed a plentiful amount of cleavage, something she playfully noted whenever he stared too long.

Movement from the corner of his eye made him turn, spotting a familiar head of light-brown hair. Surprise coloured his face and he turned fully, spotting Jean Bart striding towards him – and he stared. It was hard not to. The Battleship wore a black dress with the back open, a matching black waist clincher hugging her midsection tightly, keeping her dress in place. The skirt of her outfit barely reached her thighs, a part hanging off at the right side and falling down to her shins. Her long legs were on full display, the fabric beside them swaying as she walked.

Draped over one of her bare arms was Prinz Eugen – the Ironblood cruiser also wearing her own party outfit; mainly consisting of a thin black dress, and giving a blatant view of the sides of her breasts, as did all her outfits. And in her free hand was a glass of amber alcohol, hinting at the source of her flushed red cheeks.

''Commander~'' Prinz Eugen drawled drunkenly, her voice musical quality even when drunk. ''_Your little Battleship_ can really hold her drink, she even managed to – _hic –_ drink me under the table~''

The Commander raised a brow, curious at the oddly implying tone. ''What do you mean by that, Prinz?''

However the cruiser had already moved on, stumbling away into the sparse crowds with a drunk giggle – hugging Z23 from behind, startling the poor Destroyer and nearly sending both to the ground.

Seeing that Illustrious sighed dramatically, flashing the two a polite smile. ''I'll go keep an eye on her. Make sure she doesn't cause any trouble.''

''Mm. Thanks.'' He smiled, earning an airy giggle from Illustrious before she trailed after the two Ironblood girls, idly sipping at her drink.

Left alone the Commander turned his gaze back onto Jean Bart, gesturing for her to follow. She obliged, hanging a step behind him as he led them over to the balcony on the second floor, overlooking part of the base. Not much to look at normally, but with the party going on and the sparse crowds dotting around the base... it made for quite the relaxing view.

''You enjoying the party?'' He asked conversationally, glancing over at the beautifully-dressed woman.

''Eh... could be worse.'' Jean shrugged non-committally. ''I ain't the type to mingle during parties. Ain't my thing, is all.''

The Commander chuckled lightly. ''Understandable. What'd Prinz mean though? Something about you drinking her under the table?''

''We got talking; she kept passing me drinks while tryin' to tease me. I think she wanted to get me drunk.'' Jean smirked faintly. ''She doubted my tolerance; I think I've drunk... twenty glasses, twenty-two? She couldn't keep up and... well, you saw what happened.''

He hummed. It wasn't often he heard about Prinz Eugen getting drunk, largely because there was very few that could handle their drink more than her, barring perhaps Scharnhorst. That woman chugged by the keg, not by the glass.

His mind was drawn back to what Prinz implied, sending a sideways glance at Jean Bart. ''I'm guessing she said something about me?''

Jean Bart flushed lightly, huffing and looking away. ''What makes you think that?''

''That fact that she called you _'my little Battleship'_.''

''...she was talking about tryin' to get you drunk and make you ease up for once.'' Jean begrudgingly explained, leaning on the railing. ''I told 'er that she ain't allowed to; she took that as only _I _could do that and... well, she's got a thick skull when she wants to. Only reason I agreed to drink was to get her to talk about somethin' else.''

The Commander chuckled amusedly, shifting a little closer to her – gently bumping his shoulder against hers. ''Thanks. I don't think I could decline Prinz if she asked.''

''Why's that?''

''Because she'd just open my mouth and pour it down anyway.''

Jean Bart looked away, doing little to hide her quiet snort. ''Seems like something she'd do.''

He smiled lightly, idly noting they were the only two on the balcony. The chatter from inside had become muted, the thick walls of the church stifling the sound – not many wanted to come up and out into the cold night, preferring to stay in the warm interior; giving them some privacy. His eyes drifted back to Jean, roaming over her frame idly.

''...the hell are you staring at?''

''You.'' The Commander said simply, unbothered at being caught – his lips quirking up at the sight of her rosy blush. ''You look good.''

Jean huffed. ''I bet you told that to every second girl who asked. You're not the kind to break hearts.''

''Mm.'' He took the back-hand compliment. ''But, at the risk of getting mauled by said girls... I'd say you look the most enamouring out of everyone tonight.''

The Vichya Battleship blushed, fixing him with an annoyed, albeit flustered look. ''You just gonna keep complimenting me... or are you gonna back it up?''

He chuckled, reaching out and cupping her cheek. His fingers trailed along her jaw, remembering the thin trail of blood he wiped away only a few days ago; her fair skin now flawless and without even a faint scar. His hand shifted further, tugging his fingertips behind the hinge of her jawline – and pulling her into a kiss. Jean didn't resist, her surprisingly soft lips tangy with the taste of a rich wine, faintly tasting of grapes.

The kiss lasted only a few seconds before they pulled back, their lips hovering an inch apart. Not even a full two seconds passed until Jean suddenly closed the distance, kissing him deeply and with hesitant passion, a passion he gladly reciprocated – wrapping his arms around her lithe frame as she laid her hands on his shoulders, deepening the kiss.

Their lungs burned for air and they broke apart, panting lightly from the sudden kiss. Under the moonlight her pinkish eyes seemed all the darker, bordering on a bloodstone-red. He couldn't help but find them entrancing.

''Y-You... let's...'' Jean Bart flushed, looking away. ''Let's go somewhere private.''

The Commander only chuckled, interlocking his fingers with hers. ''As you wish, milady~''

X-x-X

His house was located on the edge of the base; one storey in height and relatively small by normal standards, making it closer to a large apartment than a full-blown house.

The Commander didn't pay the size any mind, before nor now. His hand dipped into his pocket and withdrew a set of keys, all but shoving them into his front door and twisting the lock.

The second his door was open Jean Bart was on him, pushing him inside and capturing his lips in a heated, rough kiss – one he hastily returned, their lips meshing together lustfully. Keeping their hands off each-other during the five minute walk was agonising for both of them, and as such he didn't make any move to stop her; nudging the front door closed with his foot and grabbing Jean's waist, pulling her flush against him.

''Nn...'' The Battleship grunted softly into the kiss, feeling his hands dip under her dress – giving her ass an affectionate grope.

After a few moments of heated kissing they broke apart, panting for air. The Commander wasted no time in leading her over to the bedroom, all but slamming his door open and pulling Jean close – pushing her back onto the bed with a grunt, landing atop her. She didn't even bat an eye, one hand darting up to the back of his head and yanking him down, their lips crashing together in another heated make-out session.

Soft, breathless groans slipped past Jean's lips as they kissed, his hands continuing to fondle her ass while their lips meshed together. One of his hands left her ass and trailed up to her neck, blindly fumbling with her bronze collar piece until he found the latch near the back, undoing it and causing it to fall off; revealing the thin black strings holding up her dress.

Jean Bart shuddered as they broke apart for air, panting lightly. ''Haah... you- _Mm~!_''

Whatever she intended to say dissolved into a pleased moan as he attacked her exposed neck, hungrily kissing her sensitive skin and making her writhe beneath him. His free hand returned to her ass and he kept her body flush against his as he kissed her neck, his lips ghosting over her jugular teasingly and relishing the low moans that spilled out past her lips.

Fresh gasps escaped Jean as his teeth grazed her neck, the dangerous feeling joined by the sensation of his fingers trailing up and down her thighs, sending shivering jolts of excitement through her body. The Battleship threaded her fingers through his hair and pushed him deeper into the crook of her neck, groaning in approval as he continued sucking and kissing her neck with renewed determination.

''M-Mm...'' Jean Bart squirmed, a moan slipping past her parted lips. ''Stop teasing me... you ass...''

He chuckled into her neck, pulling back long enough to capture her pink lips in a heated kiss. Jean gladly surrendered to the kiss, groaning and gripping his hair tight enough to make him hiss – allowing her to boldly shove her tongue into his mouth, tracing his teeth before wrestling lustfully with his own tongue in a mock-fight for dominance.

Burning lungs forced her to let his head go, allowing him to pull back and breath. Not a second passed before she found his hands trailing up her neck, causing pink to dust Jean's cheeks as he nimbly undid her under-collar piece... causing her dress to go slack. Something he exploited immediately, all but yanking down the front of her dress to reveal her medium-sized breasts.

''A-Ass...'' Jean Bart muttered, embarrassed.

The Commander only chuckled, kissing her on the nose. ''I'll get to _that _later~''

She glared, opening her mouth to berate him – only to gasp as he pinched her nipple, the sudden sensation sucking the breath from her lungs. Her brief lapse of focus gave more than enough time for the Commander to slip down her body, burying his face between her round breasts and hungrily kissing and sucking on her tits; the sensation of his warm lips making her writhe with pleasure.

Unheeding of her stifled moans the Commander went further, his hands coming up and cupping her boobs, giving them an affectionate squeeze. While not as big as Dunkerque's they were by no means small, easily filling his palms and lovably soft beneath his fingertips – a fact he made great use of, squeezing and rolling her breasts around in his grip, eliciting soft gasps and stifled moans from his lover.

''A-Ah... f-fuck...'' Jean groaned, shuddering as he took one of her nipples into his mouth, sucking on it. ''Nn...''

Smirking slightly at her breathless expression he refocused on her breasts, switching to the other nipple and playfully sucking on that one too – tracing the sensitive nub with his tongue before taking it inside, earning a shaky moan from Jean. Her breasts heaved in his grip as he teased her endlessly, occasionally giving her boobs a sudden squeeze and knocking the breath out of her, leaving her glaring weakly at him.

Chuckling softly the Commander moved on, planting one last wet kiss between her breasts before moving down – shifting between her legs. His hands quickly went to her left leg, lifting it up and bringing his face close, allowing him to trail of a series of gently teasing kisses down her leg. To his amusement Jean's expression scrunched up, a heated moan escaping her as he playfully nibbled on her inner thigh.

Just as he neared her short skirt he swapped to the other leg, idly nudging off her shoe and kissing her ankle. Kiss after kiss trailed down her long leg, each one purposefully drawn out for as long as possible to tease her, to slowly edge her. His teasing wasn't for naught – a mere glance at her cutely-flushed face told of how aroused she was, something that elicited a breathy chuckle from him.

Deciding that was enough he kissed down her thigh, pushing her skirt up to reveal her lacy black underwear. Without a word he hooked his fingers into the waistband and tugged them down her hips, prompting Jean to embarrassedly lift her legs up – letting him peel her underwear off her legs, leaving her visibly-slick pussy exposed.

''...hmph, you just gonna stare...?'' Jean Bart muttered, looking aside.

''Is that an offer?'' He playfully rebutted, earning himself a glare.

With a playful wink the Commander leaned down, planting a kiss on her pelvis. The Battleship stiffened and groaned, visibly shuddering as he kissed her pelvis teasingly, before slowly trailing down to her folds. Fingers quickly threaded through his hair once more, gripping tight as he teasingly took a long lick of her pussy, relishing the hastily-muffled moan that escaped Jean.

Not giving her time to recover he pushed his tongue inside, eliciting a surprised gasp before it devolved into a throaty moan, her grip on his hair loosening a touch. He took advantage of her distraction, sliding his hands up to her hips and stopping her from squirming away, letting him eat her out with ravenous abandon – his masterful tongue easily reducing the Battleship to a gasping, moaning mess.

''Mn... a-ah, don't give me that look... you idiot...'' Jean Bart breathed, meeting his amused gaze.

The Commander slipped his tongue out her folds, instead gently kissing her pussy. ''Hard not to. You're cute like this.''

''You- Mn~!''

The half-naked Battleship flopped back onto the bed, biting her lip to muffle her moan as he resumed tongue-fucking her. The tangy taste of her honey dripped onto his probing tongue, only encouraging him to pleasure her more – his tongue lapping up her juices eagerly and ravenously, leaving no spot untouched. Jean clearly felt every little movement, gasping and twitching from his pleasurable ministrations.

As her toes curled and her hips began buckling he slowed his swirling tongue to a stop, pulling it out a second later. He smiled at her strained sigh, a mixture of relief and disappointment on her face – relief at being able to catch her breath, and disappointment that he didn't keep going until she came. Any disappointment faded the moment his hands went to his slacks, undoing his belt and pushing his slacks off, allowing him to tug his cock out of his boxers.

''...damn...'' She blushed, pink-red eyes falling upon his cock.

The Commander chuckled, shifting between her legs and grasping his cock. He could see the nervousness twinkling in her eyes, hastily buried beneath stubborn confidence. Idly his free hand stroked her thigh, giving it a reassuring squeeze. She met his eyes for only a second before looking away, her blush deepening and nervousness fading.

''Go on then...'' She muttered.

''I'll be gentle.''

''Don't. Do it rough. I wanna feel it.''

He tilted his head in acknowledgement, lining his cock up with her slick folds before rolling his hips forth, pushing inside. Her pussy lips parted for his cock without protest, a low groan escaping him as he easily buried himself into the Battleship, her arousal letting him slide in with minimal discomfort. His eyes flickered to Jean's face, watching it twist in mild discomfort but not pain.

Despite her request he went slow at first, stopping with half his cock inside her and slowly rocking his hips, inching more of his cock in by the thrust. The wet tightness of her pussy strangled his cock, and even without a torn hymen he could tell she was a virgin – the embarrassed uncertainty on her face gave it away. With that in mind he went slow at first, letting her adjust to the feeling of his ample cock inside her.

After a minute she huffed, shooting him a half-hearted glare. ''...you can fuck me now...''

He couldn't help but tease her. ''Is that how you ask~?''

''Tch...'' Jean Bart looked away, the rosy flush on her cheeks darkening. ''...s-show me how much... you love me. There; I said it-!''

Her flustered words were silenced as he captured her lips in a kiss, her words devolving into a moan. His slow rhythmic thrusts picked up speed, plunging into her tight pussy and extracting more low moans from Jean – speeding up further as he broke off from the kiss, his hands gripping her sides for support. Her expression twisted up with pleasure, a heated groan passing her lips as he filled her completely with his cock, the lewd sound making his cock twitch.

The equally-lewd sound of their skin smacking together soon filled the room as their pelvises slapped against each other, his cock hitting her deepest parts repeatedly. Her plump breasts bounced about from his increasingly-rough pounding; prompting him to reach out and grope her right boob, squishing it between his fingers.

''Haah~!'' Jean Bart moaned breathily, tipping her head back and blindly grabbing handfuls of the bed. ''F-Fuck... faster...!''

The Commander grunted an agreement, giving her breast another lustful squeeze and moving his hips faster – earning a throaty moan of delight as he pounded her harder, burning pleasure filling her pussy as he drilled her. On instinct she wrapped her legs around his waist as best she could, her toes curling from the hot, electrical warmth flooding her pelvis. The powerful, rough thrusts left her gasping each time he bottomed out inside her, his cock hitting her deepest parts and making her muscles all spasm for a brief instant.

However more than that, the urge to take control rose within her heart – her prior anxiety melted in the face of the breath-stealing pleasure. With a quick jerk of her shoulders she rolled them over, taking him by surprise and making his thrusts stop; giving her the time to straddle his waist, his cock still throbbing inside her pussy.

Jean Bart grinned. ''My turn.''

The Commander groaned as she wasted no time in following up on that promise, bouncing on his cock with lustful fervour. She took only a few seconds to get used to the motions, rolling her hips as she rode his dick and stirring it around her insides, the hot pleasure teasing her tense muscles. She quickly found it a challenge to keep moving her hips as the burning pleasure heightened, her muscles growing tingly and weak – but her desperate, eager need to climax kept her moving.

''Ah... ahh...!'' Jean moaned, leaning back as she bounced on his cock – feeling him spearing deep into her.

The Battleship cried out as he bucked his hips, plunging his cock up into her quivering pussy – a hot rush flooding her pelvis and making her hips buckle dangerously, her bounces slowing for a moment before she quickly sped up again. She could feel her orgasm bubbling just beneath the skin, her muscles unwillingly tightening up and straining to hold back her looming climax, the desperate, _instinctive _need to keep moving driving her mad.

''Y-You- _Mm!_'' Jean Bart bit her lower lip – a sharp jolt shocking her pelvis and her hips buckling, right before her orgasm came crashing down on her.

Beneath her the Commander groaned, feeling her pussy strangle his throbbing cock – the heavenly tightness proving to be the last straw, tipping him over the edge. Jean Bart only shuddered as he unloaded inside her, ropes of cum painting her insides white and adding the icing to her breath-stealing orgasm.

''Ohh...'' Jean Bart groaned, a slow exhale passing her lips as she leaned back, supporting herself on her arms.

Near-silence filled the room, broken only by their heavy panting – a soft groan escaping Jean as she lifted her hips, letting his cock slip out of her. She shifted her position and draped herself over him, tiredly nuzzling his neck and groaning approvingly when he kissed her cheek.

''Fuck... that felt good...'' Jean mumbled into his ear.

The Commander chuckled breathlessly, wrapping an arm around her. ''Glad you liked it.''

''Got any alcohol 'round here?''

''Yeah...'' He grunted and stretched over, opening the top drawer of his bedside table and withdrawing a bottle of whiskey.

Jean sat up and took the offered bottle, unscrewing the cap and briefly chugging it – before pulling her lips off the rim, letting some of the amber liquid run down her collarbone and run down her breasts, most running between her modest cleavage.

Flashing him a cocky smirk, Jean tilted her head. ''You got enough stamina... _to go again?_''

He responded by peppering her collarbone and breasts with lustful licks and kisses, the rest of the night melting away in the heat of passion.

[END]


End file.
